Behold the Tyrant of Him

He stands before thee

The Grand Marshall of Death

He stood before me

The ruse of Macbeth

What do I say?

Do you expect me to do something?

It was at the break of the Day

That was when I felt him sing

It made him feel gay

What of his life is mystery?

His survival is his career

My did he sing

His ideals are sears

I fear

He sees

Life has been dear

Please is what he pleases

His mom did not grieve

His dad did not worry

He left to seize

He is not sorry

Death is his comfort

Life is his ally

Let it sort

Let it go by

My, oh my

He had another

He did not let this one go by

His new mother

Taken by a killer

Of what he became

His mind grew bitter

Yet his heart is not tame

Feeling is his true lust

He has a brother

Learn if you must

He is another

He is lighter

He is Nny

With a brother he calls Squee